He's a Tramp
by TheOrangyOne
Summary: Three months after the courier takes over New Vegas, she becomes aware of the consequences of her actions. Or rather, the consequences of sleeping with Benny.
1. Chapter 1

_So, I came up with this idea a little bit ago and wanted to try it out. Not sure how I want to go about this, really. I have a vague plot, but.. *shrug*_

_Feedback is always appreciated.  
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_Onwards._

_-Edit: For some ungodly known reason, my computer keeps autocorrecting Veronica into Vanessa /stabs computer/ fixed this. Sorry for any confusion this caused. D:-  
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**Warning:**_ Unbeta'd.  
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**He's a Tramp**  
><em>Three months after the courier takes over New Vegas, she becomes aware of the consequences of her actions. Or rather, the consequences of sleeping with Benny.<em>

**_Chapter One_**

Three months after the Battle at Hover Dam, Part Deux, Sally, as the new ruler of New Vegas, had done a pretty damn good job of fixing up the area. She set up slight taxes for the casinos, taking a certain percentage of their profits and putting them back into the community.

Some of the caps went to the Follows, allowing them to expand their influence and take care of the new influx of patients.

Some went to the Kings, who-with Sally's occasional assistance-became less of a gang, and more of a protect force for the people of Freeside.

The rest went into cleaning up the Strip-not that there was much to really clean up. Thanks to Yes-Man and the rest of the upgraded Securitrons, the inhabitants and visitors didn't cause too much trouble.

The NCR kept clear of New Vegas for the most part, with some of the deserters or retired of the army settling in New Vegas under the watchful eyes of the Kings or Sally herself.

As for the Legion, well, after their defeat, most of them committed honorable suicide. Those who didn't either backtracked to try to find remnants of their original tribes or vanished without a trace. (There were rumors that a surviving Frumentarii that was bringing together remnants of the Legion, but Sally wasn't too worried about that. Vulpes Inculta, for all his faults, wasn't that much of a fool and knew not to step on her toes or risk a visit from her army of Securitrons.)

Three months of hard work brought Sally one step closer to her dream of New Vegas, but three months also brought her the realization of one of her first actions in her step to independent New Vegas, might not have been the best of actions to make.

Which brought her to today, sitting at the dining table in the Luck 38's presidential suite (the penthouse, although unoccupied, still creeped her out), nose buried in a worn copy of **Today's Physician**, heart thudding almost painfully in her chest.

"Sally, is there any particular reason you're reading that? Is there something wrong I should know about? I am a doctor, after all."

With a tired set of eyes, Sally acknowledged Arcade's presence, her dark, sharp eyes meeting his pale ones.

"I thought you were a researcher, not a doctor." The courier-turned-ruler replied, a teasing smile spreading across her face.

"Oh no, in practice I'd be a pretty fabulous doctor. Its that whole social interaction I failed miserably at, hence why I was a researcher in the Fort. Not that I minded of course, people never really were my forte." Arcade smiled, taking a seat across from her. "What's the matter?"

Tossing the magazine onto the table, Sally rubbed her forehead. "Its been three months."

"Since?" A blond eyebrow rose, Arcade placed his hands on the dining table.

"I slept with that sneaky bastard Benny." She removed her reading glasses, placing them carefully on the table next to the tossed magazine. "And now I'm suffering from it."

"Meaning?" The blond eyebrow rose higher.

"Jesus Christ, Arcade, do I have to spell it out for you?" Sally snapped, glaring at Arcade.

"I, uhm, maybe?" Arcade paused before widening his blue-gray eyes behind his plastic framed glasses. " Oh. _Oh._You... sure about this?"

Sally rubbed her forehead again and pinched the bridge of her nose. "Yes."

"Really?"

_"Fucking yes I am."_Sally growled before taking a deep breathe and sighing. "Sorry, Arcade, and yes. I'm sure. Want to see?"

"Uhm, no-"

But Sally had already stood and was unbuttoning the suit jacket she'd taken to wearing , exposing the button up shirt underneath. And even with just the suit jacket gone, Arcade knew she was right.

Despite being made out to be some sort of superwoman, Sally was quite petite, with only a small amount of muscle. The suits and pre-war outfits she tended to wear as of late usually hung a bit baggily on her frame, but that was not the case anymore, it seemed.

Her frame was still slim, with the clothing hanging on her in some areas, but it became unusually tight around the small bump that had become her belly.

Well, this was a predicament Arcade hadn't been expecting.

Almost hesitantly, he pressed a hand against the baby bump, eyes returning to their usual size as he met the former-courier's eyes, his usual snarky attitude gone.

There was a ding and hiss as the elevator doors opened somewhere behind Arcade, and Veronica's loud perky voice interrupted his

"Hey guys, there's a man downsta-Uhm, what did I just wander into?"

Sally jerked back and grabbed her suit jacket, shrugging it on and buttoning it up with a frown, not meeting Veronica's gaze. "Nothing."

"Sally." Arcade stood, cutting the ruler off as she went to walk past the two. "Ignoring this isn't going to help. We need to figure out-"

"I've already figured out what to do. I have to find Benny."

"Checkered-coat guy? Why are we finding him? What'd I miss?"

"Sally, you can't exactly go out into the Mojave Wasteland like that. Its not safe." Arcade ignored Veronica, fearful of what would happen should Sally actually left the Strip. Just because she survived a bullet to the head once didn't mean she could survive another. And now there were two lives at the stake. "Besides we don't know where he is-"

"I'm not stupid enough to run off in the Mojave in this condition, Arcade, give me some credit. I have a friend. Member of my former tribe. Best tracker around. If Benny is still alive, he'll find him for me." Sally sighed, and looked at Veronica, "Did you say someone was waiting for me downstairs?"

"Yeah," Veronica gave Arcade a weird look but turned back to Sally. "Dark haired guy with an eyepatch and a bandanna over his mouth. He was wearing a black duster, funny symbol on the back. Said you sent a messenger to find him for something?"

"Mmm." Sally hummed to herself and smoothed down her suit jacket, leaving the room, Arcade at her heels.

"What's going on?" Veronica asked in a low voice, stalking after Arcade.

"Sally's pregnant."

_"What?_"


	2. Chapter 2

**He's a Tramp**  
><em>Three months after the courier takes over New Vegas, she becomes aware of the consequences of her actions. Or rather, the consequences of sleeping with Benny.<em>

**_Chapter Two  
><em>**

By the time the elevator doors slid open in the casino, Sally had calmly informed Veronica of the situation at hand. And, to say that the former-Brotherhood of Steel scribe was happy, was an understatement.

Pregnancies in the Mojave Wastelands weren't as uncommon as they once had been, but they were usually extremely dangerous to the woman and fetus, being that it was difficult to eat healthy. But, Sally was the Queen of New Vegas, she had all the resources of the city at her fingertips, including the Followers of the Apocalypse.

"Oh, this is so great, Sally! Minus that you're going to get all fat because of it but we'll find clothes to fit you." -Here Arcade snorted- "Oh! Imagine it! A little girl or boy! Can I be its godmother? No, wait, I want to be Auntie Veronica! Can I be Auntie Veronica? Oh, this is going to be so _awesome_."

Sally stepped out of the elevator, the happily ranting Veronica at her side, smiling a little at her companion's enthusiasm. "Veronica, calm down. I'm only two months along, we still have quite a few more to go. And yes, you can be Auntie Veronica."

"Two months along?" A muffled voice cut in and Sally moved her attention to the other figures in the casino, folding her arms over her chest.

The Lucky 38 hadn't been open to the public-Sally wasn't sure if she even wanted to at this point-and was left as she had found it. People who wanted to speak to her were only permitted to when she held meetings at The King's School of Impersonation (It was the only place were everyone could come, free of charge and safely, and the King never seemed to mind playing host to these meetings), otherwise the unspoken rule was to leave her messages with her new Securitron, James Dean, and she'd get back to then when she could.

Sally eyed the speaker, studying him silently. "Stand down Dean, Victor. This guy's a friend."

The two Securitron's dropped their guns to their sides, having had them warily pointed at the unknown (to them) man, who was seated on the stairs that led to the 'pitted' casino area.

"Yes ma'am."

"You're hardly old enough to be called ma'am, Sally." The man peered up at Sally before standing. "But, I suppose you need to be treated with respect now. Still, I would've figured you to be calling yourself Queen Sally, now." There was a teasing tone to that muffled voice.

"Rice, it is only because you've known me since we were young that I'll let that comment pass." Sally quipped back.

Sally's sharp eyes studied the man before her, mentally comparing what she could see of the man to what she remembered of her childhood friend.

He was taller than she remembered (to give her some credit, it had been eight years since she'd left her tribe to venture West, plus there was always the fact that she had been shot in the head) and wore a simple (extremely dirty) black duster, brown pants and presumably once white shirt, all of which were covered in all sorts of dust, dirt, grime and bloodstains.

A helmet-much like the ones the Legonaire recruits had worn-was on his head, his hair (Sally remembered it being a dark red-brown color) probably tucked inside. There was an eyepatch on his right eye and a dark, stained bandanna covered the lower half of his face. What parts of his face that weren't covered by the bandanna or eyepatch were so caked in dust and dirt that his usual 'war makeup' (which, as Sally recalled, was a dark greasy substance that he caked onto his face in a dark band that went across both his eyes) was indistinguishable from the rest of the dirt caked onto his face.

Most notably, the cleanest thing on the fellow was an old pip-boy was worn on his right wrist.

Sally laughed and stepped down the stairs. "Its good to see you, Rice." She enveloped the strange man in a hug, ignoring the smell and dirt that clung to him like a second skin.

"Ah, but its better to see you, my little Sally. You look well." The man stepped back.

"I would say as do you but I can't really tell much from you. Other that you smell. Terrible."

The man laughed again, shoulders shaking in amusement, and he pulled down the bandanna, exposing a layer of slightly cleaner skin, some dark stubble and a pair of scarred lips. "Well, you know me. Always the first to fall into radiated puddles and the like. And, I've been wandering around this godddessforesaken desert for a good few days. There are no real good landmarks are around here, you know. Makes me miss the Capital Wasteland." He sighed, sounding wistful. "And your radio sucks by the way."

Sally laughed again and shook her head. "No one can compete with Three-Dog, I know." A knowing, mischievous look appeared on her face. "Especially in bed, from what I hear."

"Ooh, definitely not in bed." Rice laughed before turning sober awfully quick. "So, two months along?" His single, dark green eye flickered to Sally's belly.

"Yeah..." Sally crossed her arms over her belly, almost self-conscious. "Funny story, that one is. But it can wait, if you would like to come upstairs and clean up."

_"Goddess yes, please."_


End file.
